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Chapter Text

Most people thought purple was Jiang Cheng’s favorite color but they would be wrong. He didn’t dislike purple. It was the color of his sect, the color of a lotus blossom in its peak form, the color of divinity and immortality. He liked purple. But yellow was his favorite. Not the golden hues that the Jin Sect donned or even the yellow-toned hanfu that many of the noble families wore. He liked pale, bright yellow.

Yellow reminded him of the coming warm months, where he would splash around the lakes of Lotus Pier in the irriguous summer air. Yellow reminded him of watching the sunrise over the water, yellows, and golds, and purples all mixing together in a breathtaking watercolor in the sky. Yellow reminded him of the bright yellow top he’d gotten as a gift for Jin Ling that caused him to squeal in delight for days on end when they were both younger. Still, in a time of uncertainty, a time where he was a teenage boy playing at being a Sect Leader. Playing at being a father. So lost in himself that there were times he wanted to just end it all. Maybe he would have if it wasn’t for the way Jin Ling’s smile reminded him so much of his Jiejie.

Lan Xichen reminded him of the color yellow.

He was grateful for the older man. After his sect burned to the ground and he began to grasp at straws to keep things together, he was the only Sect Leader who treated him like an adult. Like an equal. He knew how he looked, an angry little boy, unversed in the ways of the world and demanding respect he hadn’t earned. Sometimes he still felt that way (then the crackling energy of Zidian at his side reminds him of exactly whose son he was), but Lan Xichen understood.

His own sect had burned. The other man didn’t talk about it much, just as Jiang Cheng rarely brought up the night his parents died, but he knew enough to understand that he’d also had quite a bit of work to do after the Wen’s stuck their noses where they didn’t belong in his sect.

Lan Xichen would ask him periodically during the war to sit and have tea with him. He tried to be civil the times he accepted, after all this was a man who had treated him exceptionally well thus far, however at the times his temper got the better of him he simply smiled gently and poured him another cup of tea as he listened.

Then Wei Wuxian and his Jiejie died and he was alone. He ignored the loneliness. He ignored the stinging feeling he got when he heard word of the Venerated Trio and their exploits. He’d never had any false notions that Lan Xichen’s tea invitations meant anything, but it brought with it the familiar feeling of being picked last. A strange sort of envy that the three men could be sworn brothers when his own brother couldn’t even choose him above a group of strangers and war criminals.

He knew that wasn’t fair. He knew why Wei Wuxian had done it. He wasn’t stupid. It didn’t mean that it didn’t make him angry, though. If Wei Wuxian had just stayed at his side like he’d promised none of this would have happened. Jiejie would be alive. He wouldn’t be alone.

He still had nightmares about losing his golden core. He didn’t regret giving himself up, no matter what Wei Wuxian had done. But now that he knew the truth, now that he knew whose energy coursed through his body, he couldn’t help but wonder. Was this his fault? Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have turned to demonic cultivation if he had his core. Jiejie wouldn’t have died. Wei Wuxian wouldn’t have died. If Wei Wuxian had just let him go, let the Wen’s kill him (or let him kill himself after he lost his core) then only one of the Jiang children would have been dead instead of two. The darkness seeped into his mind at night as he tried to drift off and get what little sleep he could. Blackness, dark blues, and angry reds that seemed out of place around the bright yellow he loved so much.

There was no point in thinking about it. Wei Wuxian was alive, for better or worse. Happy. Away from him. The bitterness formed on his tongue as he got caught in his derailed daydream. He knew Jin Ling went to see him sometimes, he didn’t care. As long as he stayed far away from Jiang Cheng. The gaping hole in his chest didn’t seem quite so large when he didn’t have to look at his former brother’s face.

He’s losing himself. The Venerated Trio. Lan Xichen wrote to him during those years. Sometimes it was about sect business, sometimes just to subtly make sure Jiang Cheng hadn’t taken a knife to his wrists in the middle of the night (he wouldn’t. Not with Jin Ling in his care). He would speak to him at sect conferences and have tea with him when their paths crossed, always so polite and kind, always so understanding despite the barbed exterior Jiang Cheng put forth.

He knew he was with Jin Guangyao. It didn’t make sense to fall in love with a man already spoken for. He did anyways.

There were a lot of things in his life he would never forget. The life bleeding from Jiejie’s eyes as he held her. The angry red flames of his home burning to ash. His mother and father, fingers length apart as they tried to hold each other in death. The black smoke surrounding his brother, eating away the soul of the man he knew. Wen Zhuliu and everything that entailed. The torture. The whips. His core melting away.

He would never forget the look in Lan Xichen’s eyes as he stared at his sword, jutting out of Jin Guangyao’s chest and staining those brilliant yellowish-gold robes with blood.

He tried to help him. He really did. Lan Xichen had been in seclusion for a long time, but the few times he tried to visit he’d been told in no uncertain terms by Lan Wangji to stay far away from his brother. Instead, he’d tried writing instead. Lan Xichen’s letters helped ground him while he felt second away from falling to pieces, he was no good with words but maybe he could help him too.

Months went by and he never heard anything. He kept sending the letters, wondering if the reason he wasn’t opening them were because of the stamped seal of his sect. The purple ribbon tied around the parchment. The faint musty, floral scent of Lotus Pier accompanying it. Perhaps he thought it was sect business. He sent one unmarked just in case.

After almost nine months of writing, he got a response. It didn’t say much, in the shaky hand of someone unused to writing for some time, just thanking him for the letters and telling him he’d be leaving seclusion soon.

Soon turned out to be another four months, during which the pair wrote back and forth. Jiang Cheng complained as he normally did, expressing concern for Lan Xichen where he felt it wouldn’t go particularly noticed, and Lan Xichen good naturally soothed him as usual. The pair didn’t see each other again until the next discussion conference.

Lan Xichen had shown up at the Unclean Realm looking like a ghost. Pale enough that he almost matched his pristine robes, face gaunt but graced with a gentle smile as usual. Jiang Cheng was reminded of one of the weeping willow trees in Lotus Pier. They blew in the wind, swaying too and fro as though they could snap at the slightest of pressure, but he knew better. They were strong. He knew Lan Xichen was too.

He didn’t mean for it to come out, really he didn’t. He knew Lan Xichen was in love with Jin Guangyao, that they’d been in a poorly concealed relationship before the latter’s death, but it slipped out when he didn't mean for it to.

“I love you.”

It was the last day of the conference and Jiang Cheng was barely standing on his own two feet with how exhausted he was. He merely wanted to express that he was glad Lan Xichen had left seclusion, perhaps throw in a veiled barb or two about how it was better to have him at these meetings than his brother, that he had been concerned about his wellbeing. Instead, he’d managed to confess one of his deepest secrets.

He saw the minuscule flicker of shock on Lan Xichen’s face before he schooled it into something more polite. Jiang Cheng braced himself, had he been ten years younger he may have even run rather than face rejection, but what's done is done.

“I’m flattered, Jiang Wanyin, that someone of your status and reputation would consider me a worthy partner. In another life perhaps we would have been good for each other. But a Lan loves only once in their life, and as you may or may not be aware I’ve already had mine I’m afraid. I value your friendship and hope this won’t put a strain on it.”

So polite. Always so polite.

“Of course not. Please excuse me, it was rude of me to presume.”

Was all he said back before hightailing it back to Lotus Pier as fast as was socially acceptable.

Lan Xichen continued to reach out like nothing had happened like Jiang Cheng hadn’t confessed his affection for him. He asked him about his sect and his life, as usual, he invited him for tea on the rare occasions they saw each other in person, as usual, he even continued sending him packages of calming tea and other useful treasures from Gusu as he had been for years.

At first, Jiang Cheng continued too. Writing. Having tea. Sending items Lan Xichen may find useful from his home. But he couldn’t manage for long. It was one thing to write, one thing to send packages, but after two or three sessions of tea, he had to stop. He couldn’t look Lan Xichen in the eye, he couldn’t face that kindness and understanding there. He couldn’t face the reasons he loved him.

Lan Xichen didn’t say anything about it when Jiang Cheng began refusing his tea invitations. He didn’t mention it when Jiang Cheng’s weekly correspondence turned monthly. He didn’t comment when Jiang Cheng began sending the tea back to Gusu.

“Why does Zewu-jun seem so sad?” Wei Wuxian had prodded, twirling his flute in a way that drove Jiang Cheng crazy on a night hunt his stubborn nephew had talked him into going on. He’d conveniently forgotten to mention that Wei Wuxian would be there.

“How should I know?” He scoffed in return.

Wei Wuxian thumbed at his nose, a thoughtful look on his face.

He’d tried to move on. He’d gone on dates. Met women the matchmaker insisted he would like. Tried to smile and be gentlemanly. To the rest of the cultivation world, it must have seemed like Jiang Cheng was finally ready to marry. Wei Wuxian had been ribbing him about it, Jin Ling was pouting, even Lan Wangji had given him a raised eyebrow at the next conference they went to (Lan Xichen wasn’t there. He didn’t ask why).

Things were fine. He could get over this. Be normal. It had been months since he’s impromptu confession and the sun still rose the same as it did every day with yellow beams of light over the water. It still glinted gold over the ripples in the lake. The muggy air still came back for the warm season and Jiang Cheng still sat outside polishing Sandu as cicadas buzzed all around him.

He cleared his throat with an eye roll. He’d had a bit of a cough for a few days now. Someone of his cultivation level shouldn’t be getting colds. He blamed it on the season’s seeming inability to decide which one it should be at the moment. One day it would be warm enough to take a nap out by the lake and the next a thin, cold mist would lay thick over the water.

He coughed a bit harder, a bit of phlegm seeming to be caught as he beat at his chest to try to dislodge it. It took a moment but Jiang Cheng could feel it working its way up, coughing into his hand.

It wasn’t phlegm. It wasn’t a cold either. In his hand lay a singe bright yellow winter jasmine petal.

Well, yellow had always been his favorite color.

Chapter Text

He tried to hide it as long as he could. He knew what it was, of course, but he’d never actually heard of anyone having it before. It was always just a stupid story children told each other, the idea of choking to death of flowers because of unrequited love seeming very real at the time.

Hanahaki Disease.

There was no question as to who the unrequited love was.

Jiang Cheng coughed again, another small flurry of petals spitting from his mouth along with a few spots of blood onto the letter Lan Xichen had just sent him. He rolled his eyes.

‘The winter jasmine are beginning to bloom here in the Cloud Recesses. A sure sign that spring is coming.’

Lan Xichen had written in his letter. He’d mentioned in this letter he liked to see them bloom, they were proof that the ice would melt soon and warmer weather was coming to stay for a while. It seemed that Lan Xichen’s favorite flower had become the symbol of Jiang Cheng's doom. He lifted his brush, penning a short response to the other man with a few complaints about the fickle temperature in Lotus Pier before sending it off.

It had been two weeks now since he’d seen the first petal, two weeks since he’d alerted his healer and the pair of them had poured over any text on Hanahaki Disease they could find. They all said the same thing. Lan Xichen either had to return Jiang Cheng’s feelings, or he would die.

He didn’t want to die, but it looked like he didn’t have a choice. His healer had pleaded with him to tell her who the subject of his affections was, but he’d sworn her to silence.

“There is no point in them knowing” he’d said, “I’ve already confessed and they don’t return my feelings”.

Jiang Daiyu had been devastated but agreed to his wishes. She was a good woman. She reminded him of a grandmother, always fussing over him to take care of himself despite his age and his station. She’d been here back before Lotus Pier burned, had helped him resurrect his sect from the ashes, had been in the fields alongside him as they tried to repair the damaged lotus fields the Wen’s had demolished. He could trust her.

Besides, even if Lan Xichen knew he would still die. He’d made it perfectly clear he didn’t love him. He’d already had his great and terrible love story. Jiang Cheng wished Jin Guangyao was still alive if only so he could run him through himself. Lan Xichen deserved a better love story than that. He deserved a better one than what Jiang Cheng could offer too, so there was no point. He’d have to keep pushing through until the end.

His heart ached for Jin Ling. For the baby he’d watched grow into a man. It wasn’t fair for him to have to lose another family member, but he’d still have Wei Wuxian at least. No matter how much Jiang Cheng hated his brother, he couldn't deny that it brought a sense of comfort to him to know he would be around for his nephew after he was gone.

Speaking of his nephew. Jiang Cheng sighed, rubbing away the headache forming in his temples as he thought. He had no wife. No children. No heir. He likely wouldn’t have time to choose one, no time to train one, he had to find someone to keep his sect alive. He needed someone who loved this sect, who knew it inside and out and was familiar with governing it, someone who would ride this mighty phoenix that Jiang Cheng had raised from the ashes and never let it fizzle out. He looked through the list in front of him.

Jiang Enlai was his top disciple, but he was young. He knew nothing about running a sect. His parents were of a high class, but there was a huge difference between running a large estate and an entire sect.

Jiang Hai was another choice. He was smart and strong, but his parents were power-hungry. He didn’t want to place this sect into their hands.

Jiang Huian

Jiang Luli

Jiang Meixiu

All of them talented disciples but none enough to take over the sect. Jiang Cheng wished that Jin Ling hadn’t been forced to take over the Jin Sect so early. He would have been his top choice, but there was no way one cultivator could run two sects at once. Upsetting the power balance would be the least of their concerns then.

He slammed his fist on the table, his cup of tea that had long gone cold rattled and spilled out onto the list, bleeding onto the ink and swirling around the names. Jiang Cheng could only think of one person and he hated it. He hated it with every single fiber of his being. He stood, kicking the low table for good measure as he strode out of the room and past a few very startled looking attendants.

“Draw a bath.” He commanded, grabbing Sandu and heading to the training yard.

Training always helped him think. His anger overflowed into precise movements and practiced swings. His mother would hate this. His father would probably be happy. He knew what he had to do.

—————

He coughed out the last few petals caught in his throat, inspecting his robes to make sure there were no bloodstains before exiting the guest room he’d been given at the Cloud Recesses and making his way to where the discussion conference was going to be. He made eye contact with Lan Xichen on the way in, the older man smiling and greeting him with a bow (which he returned a bit shakily due to the sudden buildup of petals in his throat).

The conference was agony. He couldn't care any less about raising taxes or a large water demon presence in Qinghe. He prayed to the Gods that no one would ask him to chime in, he didn't think he would be able to without spitting flowers everywhere. Being this close to Lan Xichen seemed to exacerbate the condition quite a bit. One month. It had only been a month since the first petal appeared and he already felt roots taking hold in his lungs. Or maybe that was just because of how Lan Xichen was looking at him right now, with concern in his gaze.

As soon as the meeting was over he bolted for the door, but as quick as he was Lan Xichen was quicker.

“Sect Leader Jiang, may I have a word?”

Fuck.

He turned as everyone else filed out, whispers and stares focused on him as he passed. He focused on swallowing hard, the suffocating feeling becoming painful enough to bring tears to his eyes as he forced the petals back down where they came from so he could speak.

“Sect Leader Lan.” He greeted with a bow.

Lan Xichen caught his arms as he usually did, his gently smile betraying his worry.

“Are you feeling alright? I noticed you’ve been quieter than normal. You look rather thin, too.” He asked.

Jiang Cheng almost wanted to be rude, just to get it all over with so he could leave, but this was Lan Xichen.

“You mean I didn’t argue with Sect Leader Nie about his approach to handling the water demons?” He raised an eyebrow, “I assure you I am feeling just fine. Qinghe is in his sect, we’ve gone night hunting together enough that he knows my methods. It isn’t my problem if he decides not to use them.”

It was true, Nie Huaisang’s course of action regarding the water demons would lead to disaster. Lotus Pier had far more water (and subsequently water demons) than the Unclean Realm did and had Jiang Cheng not felt like choking he may have given his input (read: yelled) about how to efficiently and effectively clear them out.

Lan Xichen knew that which was probably why he looked like he didn’t believe him.

“If that's all.” Jiang Cheng bowed. He had to get out of here, he wasn’t going to be able to hold back the flowers for much longer.

“Oh. Yes. Of course. I also intended to invite you for tea if you had the spare time.” Lan Xichen added, surprise coloring his face. Jiang Cheng was rude and brash, but he wasn’t normally quite this rude and brash to Lan Xichen of all people.

“I’m afraid I don’t. Thank you for the invitation, Sect Leader.” He managed to bow once more before pivoting and quickly exiting the room.

He didn’t turn around to see if Lan Xichen bowed back. He didn’t wait to see if he called his name. He just walked as briskly as he could until he reached some trees alongside the perimeter of the building and broke out into a run, racing to get far enough away from the clearing that others wouldn’t hear him retching.

He dropped to his knees, unable to move any further. He clawed at his throat, panic flooding him as he began to expel entire blooms, blood splattering the ground next to them as he tried in vain to breathe. Not yet. This couldn’t happen yet. He thought it would be slower, everything he’d read said he’d have time. He hadn’t passed the sect on yet.

Finally, right before Jiang Cheng was sure he was going to pass out, he could breathe again. He wheezed as he drew in a shaky gulp of air, surrounded by winter jasmine petals and blood. At least they wouldn’t look out of place, he mused, other winter jasmine blooms (natural ones this time) surrounding them.

They were beautiful.

His next stop was to find Wei Wuxian. He didn’t want to do this, he was in a bad mood just thinking about it, but there was no one else. Wei Wuxian knew how to run Lotus Pier. He would make sure nothing would happen to it. He would protect Jin Ling. It had to be him.

When he found him he was playing that damned flute of his, lounging on the chilly forest floor surrounded by dozens of snow-white rabbits.

“Wei Wuxian”

Maybe he bit it out a little harsher than he’d intended because Wei Wuxian jumped up in alarm at the sound of his voice. His brother was different now. They both were, but Wei Wuxian in a grander scale than him. Mo Xuanyu looked a little bit like his brother, it was true, but he was smaller. Weaker. His black hair just a little less thick than Wei Wuxian's and his hands just a tiny bit more delicate. If Wei Wuxian never spoke he might even be able to fool himself into thinking it was still the other man, but there was no mistaking his brother for anyone else once he opened his mouth. He tried to push down the choking feeling in his throat, convincing himself it was the flowers rather than raw emotion.

“Jiang Cheng?”

He looked confused. For good reason he supposed, he tended to try to stay out of Jiang Cheng’s way when he was around, so the fact that he’d actually sought him out was strange.

“Wei Wuxian. I need you to promise me something.”

Straight to the point. He was tired and could already feel more petals creeping up. He just wanted to sleep.

“What?” Wei Wuxian still looked bewildered, a bunny hopping in his lap. It might have been funny if it had been fifteen years ago. But it wasn't fifteen years ago, and Jiang Cheng no longer had the patience for frivilous humor.

“I’ll call for you soon. Come to Lotus Pier.” He could see Wei Wuxian starting to open his mouth- “don’t ask questions. Just do it. You can’t tell anyone, not even Lan Wangji. Just do it. I promise I’ll explain everything once you are there”.

Wei Wuxian seems like he’s trying to say something but the words were stuck in his throat. Jiang Cheng knew the feeling.

“Jiang C-“

“Gege, please.” He would probably be flushing if he wasn’t so ill, avoiding Wei Wuxian’s eyes as he begged. This was important. He was willing to lose a little face if it meant Lotus Pier would survive. If it meant Jin Ling would be taken care of.

It was quiet for a long long time before Jiang Cheng looked up to see Wei Wuxian staring at him. A million emotions ticked across his face so fast that he could barely ready them. Sadness, confusion, happiness, helplessness. The emotion between them was so thick it reminded Jiang Cheng of the muggy summer air in Lotus Pier, the way the pair of them used to splash through the lakes and rivers to be granted just a small moments reprieve from the blistering heat.

Finally, he spoke.

“Okay. I promise.”

Jiang Cheng didn’t say thank you. He didn’t wait for him to say anything else. He turned on his heel and left, feeling his brother’s eyes on him the entire way.

Wei Wuxian was far from his first choice, but he was the best one he could get.

Chapter Text

Things got very bad very fast after that. He’d reached Lotus Pier and it had barely taken two more weeks for him to be practically bedridden. It was out of pure spite that he managed to stay standing, but it looked like he was going to need to call Wei Wuxian sooner than expected.

There were buckets of petals, buckets of blood, ruined robes, and jugs of water littered around his room. He couldn’t train anymore. He barely had the strength to lift Sandu. Any food he ate seemed to be pushed right back up by those damned flowers, he could feel the roots tickling the bottom of his throat. When he looked in the mirror he saw a skeleton, attenuated cheeks with his clothing practically hanging off him. He was an unhealthy shade of pale, his dark hair losing the shine it once held and his eyes growing dull. He’d have to begin taking his inner-sect meetings to his room so he could lay in bed soon. He wouldn’t be able to hide this from his own people much longer, but perhaps he could hide it from the rest of the world.

He didn’t want Jin Ling to find out until after he was gone. He didn’t know if it would be easier for him that way, but the selfish part of him couldn’t stand the thought of Jin Ling watching him die with tears in his eyes. Not when even Jiang Daiyu had said there was nothing else they could do to alleviate the symptoms.

Beyond that, he didn’t want Lan Xichen to know at all. He didn’t want him to know what he’d died of, and if he found out he hoped he’d think it was someone else. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t love him. Jiang Cheng was prickly at best and despicable at worst, he was never the first pick and he knew that. The last thing Lan Xichen needed on his conscience was another death, especially when it wasn’t his fault.

Jin Guangyao hadn’t been his fault either, but he still thought so. He knew it.

He managed to dress, even if his bun was a little sloppier than normal, and make his way to sit on his lotus throne and receive his brother. He may be dying but he’ll be damned if he lets Wei Wuxian see him like this.

His brother arrives escorted by two Jiang disciples looking almost comically confused. He’d sent his letter a few days ago and part of him had expected Wei Wuxian to ignore him (or even worse tell his husband anyways and have a parade of Lan disciples behind him).

“Lan Wangji?” Jiang Cheng asked just in case, as though he was going to jump out from behind any of the pillars any moment now.

“I didn’t tell him. I didn’t tell anyone, just like you asked. What's going on?”

Wei Wuxian looked a little cagey as Jiang Cheng sent everyone else out of the room. He supposed he could understand why.

“I’m not going to kill you” Jiang Cheng practically sighed, feeling the wheeze bubbling up in his throat.

“What's going on?” Wei Wuxian repeated, arms crossed.

He couldn’t avoid it any longer.

“I want to reinstate you into the sect. Give you the surname Jiang.” He bit out each word as though it physically pained him.

It kind of did.

It was quiet for a long time, Wei Wuxian frozen in place.

“No.”

“What? Why!?” Jiang Cheng can’t say he’d been expecting this. An argument? Yes. Flat out refusal? No.

“Why would you want me to rejoin the sect!? You aren’t telling me something.” Wei Wuxian pointed accusingly at him.

“Fine” Jiang Cheng rubbed the bridge of his nose, “I need you to take over as Sect Leader”.

Wei Wuxian looked as exhausted as Jiang Cheng felt as he absorbed the information. He could see him trying to piece the puzzle together in his head and coming up short.

“Why? For how long? Why not get someone here to do it?” Question after question fired at him.

The flowers crawled higher.

“Because you are the only one left I trust to take care of Lotus Pier besides Jin Ling and he obviously can’t do it” he shot back at him, venom in his eyes and Zidian sparking.

Before Wei Wuxian could open his mouth with a retort Jiang Cheng coughed.

It was a rattling cough, wheezing, and hacking coming from his body as he keeled over. He felt his knees hit the floor in front of his throne as his hands scrambled for purchase on the ground, he felt soft fabric and realized absently that he was grasping Wei Wuxian’s robes who had rushed over next to him. The coughing continued with flowers blooming from his throat and into his mouth, blood dribbling garishly down his mouth and dripping onto both of their robes.

“Jiang Cheng!” Wei Wuxian was shouting at him, pulling back the flyaway pieces of hair in his face as he struggled to breath.

After a long moment, the floor surrounding them was littered with bloodstained winter jasmine blossoms and he looked up into a terrified Wei Wuxian’s eyes.

“Didi…” he whispered

Jiang Cheng ignored him.

‘That's why.” His voice sounded rough even to him, a whistling sound escaping as he inhaled.

Wei Wuxian wasted no time gripping him under his armpits and hauling him up. When Jiang Cheng tried to stand his legs buckled and he fell right back into his brother’s waiting hands. The pair made their way to Jiang Cheng’s room and he was too tired to be angry that Wei Wuxian was manhandling him into bed like an unruly child. He watched him as he took in the buckets upon buckets of flowers and blood, the robes stained beyond repair, the letters of correspondence littering his table.

“How long?” He finally asked, voice shaking a little as he put his hands on his hips.

“Long enough.” Jiang Cheng answered, shutting his eyes in preparation for the fight he knew was coming.

“Who?” Was the next question.

“Doesn’t matter.”

“Doesn’t matter!? Jiang Cheng look at yourself!” Wei Wuxian began to fuss, voice leveling out a bit from the unstable wobbling it had been doing earlier.

“Doesn’t matter. I’ve already confessed. There's nothing to be done.” Jiang Cheng felt like crying, but he didn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry.

“Jin Ling-“

“Doesn’t know. And you won’t tell him until after I’m gone”. He opened his eyes to glare at Wei Wuxian, he didn’t have much energy left to fight but he would fight for this.

He stared at his brother as he processed it, the panic and terror morphing into sudden unexpected anger.

“Tell me who they are.” He demanded.

“You can’t force someone to love me, idiot.” Jiang Cheng spits out a little blood as he spoke, voice hoarse.

“I can’t. But I can ask why the hell they aren’t here. Maybe they don’t love you, but you’re dying because of them. The least they can do is-“ Wei Wuxian began to pace, going on a tirade around Jiang Cheng’s quarters.

“Nothing” Jiang Cheng interrupted sternly, “they can do nothing other than watch me die”.

Wei Wuxian stopped moving. Jiang Cheng wasn’t looking at him, tracing his finger around the edge of his ring. Of Zidian. This would be Wei Wuxian’s soon. He opened his mouth to say as much but his brother managed to speak before he could.

“Please don’t do this.”

There was so much pain in his voice that it was palpable in his large rooms. Wei Wuxian was staring at Zidian too, tears in his eyes.

“Don’t you dare give that to me.”

Jiang Cheng glared at him. He didn’t want to. He wouldn’t if he had a choice.

“Wei Wuxian, I need to know this sect will live after I’m gone. I don’t have an heir. Even if you don’t want to be Sect Leader, at least act as one until you can find someone worthy to lead Lotus Pier.”

He slipped Zidian back on his finger, breaking Wei Wuxian’s concentration on it.

“It will live. I swear.” Wei Wuxian promised, a sort of helpless terror reflected in his eyes.

Jiang Cheng sighs as best as he can around the rattling in his chest and closes his eyes, feeling the weight lifting off his shoulders. He only opens his eyes again when he hears the sound of a brush on paper.

“What are you doing?” He asked Wei Wuxian sharply who is currently bent over his writing-table working on something diligently.

“Writing Lan Zhan. Telling him I’ll be here for a while.” He answers from behind the tongue in between his teeth.

“No need. I’ll have someone call for you when the time comes.”

Wei Wuxian stops abruptly and stares at him.

“You’ve really given up, haven't you.” He sounds dejected. Disappointed.

“What else is there to do?” Jiang Cheng defends, “we’ve tried everything we can.”

Wei Wuxian still stares with that same expression.

“If you think I’m leaving my little brother here to die in his bed alone while I galavant back to Gusu you really don’t know me at all.” That disappointment lingers on his words.

Jiang Cheng tries not to flinch at the words ‘little brother’. It is one thing to think them in his head, but to hear them aloud…

“I don’t need you here.” He tried to argue around his neck wheeze.

Wei Wuxian stood abruptly, turning sharply on his heel.

“Is this it then? You’ll act like this until the end? Hate me all you want, Jiang Cheng, but you are my brother and I’m not leaving you.”

Had it been when they were still teenagers there might have even been tendrils of demonic energy swirling from his center, but his brother had done a lot of growing up. He supposed they all had. Where had the years gone? He’d always thought he’d have more time.

He wanted to fight Wei Wuxian. To feel normal. But he was too tired. Too hungry. Too sick. The only way he was going to get his brother to leave was by kicking him out on his ass himself, and he was well aware he couldn’t do that as well as he used to anymore.

A half-choked sigh of resignation.

“Fine. You can stay. But open the curtain before you head to your room.” Jiang Cheng nodded at the window.

Wei Wuxian looked more than a little surprised. He no doubt expected a lot more of a fight, but Jiang Cheng didn’t have anything left to give. Wordlessly he crossed the room and drew the curtain away from the window. The chilly draft of rapidly approaching spring nights rustled a few papers on his desk, but Jiang Cheng didn’t care. This way when the morning approached he could still see the sunrise from his eastern facing room.

He loved the yellows and golds in the rising sun. He may as well take advantage of each one. He wasn’t sure how many more he was going to get.

Chapter Text

True to his word Wei Wuxian hardly left his side (much to his displeasure). He wasn’t sure what lie he’d told his husband and quite frankly he didn't care. It had been about a week since he’d arrived and Jiang Cheng might have started looking forward to death if he had been any other man.

Every breath hurt. Every inhale raking at his lungs in a desperate attempt to get enough oxygen. Even water hurt to drink now but he barely felt the hunger anymore, his body finally accepting it wouldn't be receiving any. What he wouldn’t give for some of his sister’s lotus rib soup right now. He could still remember the taste of it even after all these years, he could still see her warm smile and hear her soft voice. At least he’d get to see her soon.

He’d been trying to write a few letters during the rare bouts of time where he felt strong enough to hold a brush. He’d written one to Jin Ling that said everything he probably should have confessed before now. How proud of him he was. How much he loved him. He wasn’t his father, that was true, but when he saw him take his first steps or utter “Jiu-jiu” for the first time he imagined that was how a father would feel. He told him he was sorry. For his temper. For pushing him too hard sometimes. For being a coward and hiding the fact that he was dying from his nephew.

He wrote one of declaration too. One stating that Wei Wuxian would be taking control of the Jiang Sect after his passing. His council was aware and although they were far from happy with it none of them seemed to have the heart to argue with the man struggling for each breath on his bed. Jiang Cheng had a fearsome reputation it was true, but his people respected him. Many of them had worked alongside him while he raised the sect back to glory, as he avenged his family, they saw the commitment and passion he had and above all the love he had for his home.

Maybe he wasn’t a good person, but he was a good leader.

The third letter he’d written and re-written half a dozen times by now. He’d changed his mind over and over about writing it at all.

‘Sect Leader Lan-

Zewu-Jun-

Lan Xichen-

Lan Huan-‘

He could barely get past the greeting. What would he even say? The selfish part of him, the part of him drowning in petals and roots, wanted to confess one last time. To tell him that he loved him, that he’d loved him for years and would never stop. There would be no point to that beyond being cruel though. If he knew the other Sect Leader half as well as he thought he did he would carry that with him as a badge of blame, lock himself away in sequestration of self-loathing and regret. He would not make him feel guilty for not loving him.

Despite it all, despite the fact that he knew the other man would never return his feelings, despite the fact that Jiang Cheng fought a war for each breath he drew in, despite the blood he’d given up trying to clean that stained the sheets around him, he couldn't regret loving Lan Xichen.

He was a hateful man. Cruel. Vicious. But Lan Xichen never treated him like that, he saw him as a man and Jiang Cheng hadn’t realized how badly he needed that until it had fallen into his lap. He felt like he could lower his guard just a little around the other man and face the world without judgment. It was those small moments that prepared him to go back to the brash, hot-tempered man the rest of the world knew him as. Even though it was killing him, he was glad.

He tapped the brush against his chin again, propped up on some pillows. It wasn’t like Lan Xichen would forget all about him after he was gone, but a part of him longed to make sure he remembered him. One thousand years from now he wanted Lan Xichen to remember him. When everyone remembered him as the fearsome Sandu Shengshou and Lan Xichen as the perfect Zewu-Jun he wanted Lan Xichen to remember him. To know that he didn’t love him because he was ‘perfect’. His favorite parts of the older man were the rare times he got to see the cracks in the porcelain, the times he would make a subtly snide comment (although regret would wash over his face almost immediately) or when he would genuinely laugh at whatever Jiang Cheng was griping about. He loved knowing the man broke more than a few of his own sect’s rules, over the last fifteen or so years he’d seen the best and the worst of him. And he loved it.

“Are you sure you don’t want to tell them?” Wei Wuxian piped up from where he was cleaning Chenqing in the corner.

He hadn’t told Wei Wuxian who it was, simply that he didn’t want them knowing about his condition since it was futile anyway. He knew Wei Wuxian disagreed. Still held some seed of hope that whoever his love was would come to their senses and love him back. Jiang Cheng had given him a list of reasons why no one should love him, it was irrefutable.

They worked around each other. He pretended he didn’t notice the puffy redness of Wei Wuxian’s eyes when he visited his bedside and Wei Wuxian didn’t say anything about how hollow Jiang Cheng’s cheeks were growing or how waxy his skin was. His brother would just try to feed him a poor imitation of Jiejie’s soup unsuccessfully and ignore Jiang Cheng has he tried to give him important sect information for when he took over.

It had been a week and it was fine. Until it wasn’t.

“Sect Leader Jiang, Hanguang-Jun has arrived at the gates of Lotus Pier.” One of his attendants announced with a bow at the doorway to his room.

Jiang Cheng immediately shot an accusing glare at his brother, but the demonic cultivator looked just as surprised as he felt.

“I’ll go talk to him Jiang Cheng, don’t worry.” He assured, brushing stray petals off his robes as he stood. He couldn’t do anything about the bloodstains he’d gotten from when he’d held Jiang Cheng during his latest attack, but it was good enough.

Jiang Cheng couldn’t tell if the tightness in his chest was because of nerves or the flowers. Maybe it was both. Did it really even matter anymore? He must have closed his eyes because it felt like mere seconds until there was a knock on the door and a sheepish Wei Wuxian re-entered followed by a figure in white.

If Jiang Cheng squinted he almost looked like Lan Xichen. This man was much sterner, much snobbier too. He also happened to be his brother-in-law.

He observed Lan Wangji enter the room and take in the scene as Wei Wuxian anxiously hovered by him. His expression didn’t give anything away as he scanned his body. He tried to glare, to look even a fraction the fearsome Sandu Shengshou he was known as, but he knew it was useless. He looked dead. It wasn’t too far off.

“When Wei Ying sent word that he would be in Lotus Pier indefinitely due to an emergency I grew concerned.” He finally explained.

Not concerned about him, it went unsaid. Probably concerned that Jiang Cheng had chained Wei Wuxian up somewhere and was torturing him within an inch of his life. He would have rolled his eyes if he had the strength.

“As you can see things are fine. I’m sorry you had to make the journey.” He said stiffly.

Lan Wangji simply raised a thin eyebrow.

“Do we know who it is?” He asked his husband, inclining his head to indicate he was speaking to him.

“He won’t say. He says he’s confessed already so it's pointless.” His brother answered.

A familiar surge of anger rushed through him. How dare they speak about him like he wasn’t here? How dare they interfere? Why couldn’t they just leave so he could die in peace?

“Wasn’t aware you gave a shit whether I live or die, Hanguang-Jun.” Jiang Cheng challenged, spitting as much venom as he could in the sentence.

Lan Wangji just leveled him with a gaze as he had to turn onto his side for another coughing fit. Wei Wuxian helped hold him up so he didn’t choke on the petals and blood as he retched. He had long gotten used to the shameful sounds he made during his episodes. The sounds of a body fighting tooth and nail to stay alive, grasping at straws. The pain in his lungs and throat was nearly unbearable and he couldn’t stop the tears of pain from welling up as the terrible scent of winter jasmine and blood permeated the air. During every episode, he wondered, was this it? He didn’t know how dying felt and he wasn’t about to ask Wei Wuxian, but he imagined this was pretty close.

When the coughing finally subsided and he collapsed back onto the bed a pristine hand held out a white nose-rag for him.

“Important to Wei Ying. And…no one deserves to die like this.” Lan Wangji pressed the nose-rag into his shaking hand.

Not even you, it went unsaid.

“There's nothing you can do. Take Wei Wuxian and go home.” Jiang Cheng’s voice was barely audible and Lan Wangji almost looked like he wanted to laugh.

“I’ll fetch some fresh water.” He offered.

He suspected it was more to get away from him than to be helpful, but he would be grateful for the other man’s absence.

Wei Wuxian watched him leave, sitting in the chair that had become his permanent station by his bedside. He was holding a flower, plucking each petal off and tearing it into minuscule pieces like he could destroy the disease inside Jiang Cheng by doing so.

“I think you should tell Jin Ling.”

“No.” Jiang Cheng bit back, his hackles raised and prepared for another argument.

“Jiang Cheng. Jin Ling has never gotten to say goodbye. Not to A-Jie, not to his father, not to Jin Guangyao (he has to remind himself he was the child’s other Uncle sometimes), and now you want to take away his chance to say goodbye to you.”

He looked at his brother. His frazzled hair and the dark circles under his bloodshot eyes. He didn’t want to see Jin Ling like this.

“Let him say goodbye.” Wei Wuxian finally whispered.

The silence highlighted the sound of the birds and frogs moving about outside his window. Preparing for Spring.

Maybe Jiang Cheng was simply too weak to fight, maybe Wei Wuxian was actually right, maybe he was delirious from blood loss, whatever the reasoning he closed his eyes and with as deep a breath he can manage through his nose he nodded.

Wei Wuxian let out a breath Jiang Cheng hadn’t realized he’d been holding, his shoulders drooping.

“Thank you.” He whispered again standing with a bow and swiftly exiting, presumably to send word to Jin Ling.

Maybe if he was lucky he’d die before his nephew got here so he wouldn’t have to face him.

Chapter Text

He didn’t die. At least not before Jin Ling arrived. Wei Wuxian and Lan Wangji had closed the door behind them as they left, leaving just him and his nephew in the room. Wei Wuxian had helped him clear the space of what flowers and blood he could, but they were rapidly filling the buckets back up again.

Jin Ling was crying. He hated it when he cried.

“Why? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” He asked finally, the bite in his words so reminiscent of Jiang Cheng’s own personality that it hurt.

“A-Ling…” Jin Ling tried to muffle a sob as Jiang Cheng began. He just reached out a shaky arm for the little boy he’d watched grow.

Jin Ling hesitated for just a moment but came easily. Jiang Cheng was propped up on his pillows, bony wrists shaky as he grasped Jin Ling’s golden robes. They mixed with the yellow winter jasmine petals as he gently maneuvered his nephew to sit next to him, pressing his face to his chest (thankfully his robes weren’t yet bloodstained).

The sobs that wracked his body were more excruciating than any disease, he tried to shush him gently as he ran a hand over the back of his head. He felt the tears soak through his under-robes and wet his chest as Jin Ling pressed closer to his heart.

He remembered holding him like this as a child. He used to be so afraid of lightning, he’d seen the irony of course and realized Zidian may never be his nephew’s to inherit, but during every thunderstorm, at night he’d wait for the pitter-patter of little feet running across the floor. He’d wait for the small creak of his door and the sniffle of a tiny nose as a toddler shakes him away with a “Jiu-jiu!”

He would hold him like his sister would have, tell him stories of his grandmother, and how the lightning was her incarnation. That she was simply saying hello to her grandson. Jin Ling would sniffle and bury himself into his chest, clutching at the front of his robes with chubby little hands. If anyone else had seen the great Sandu Shengshou like that they wouldn’t have believed it, but there was little in this world Jiang Cheng wouldn’t do for his nephew. For the boy who wore his sister’s smile so well. He hadn’t done this for him since he was at least six years old and he was much too big, but he held onto him anyway and let him cry.

“Jiu-jiu, why!?” Jin Ling wailed.

He wished he had an answer.

He’d wanted so much better for the boy in his arms. Instead, he seemed to be following in his footsteps. Losing all his family and becoming Sect Leader at a young age, inheriting the famous Yu temper, rebuilding a broken sect. But Jin Ling had friends. He had people who cared about him, people who were willing to stick by his side no matter what. Jiang Cheng was glad. He’d never had that, and it was all he’d wanted for his nephew.

“I’m sorry. I know.” He said over and over. Jin Ling was a man now, but he was a child again in his arms and Jiang Cheng’s heart seized. He was going to miss him.

“Jiu-jiu you can’t go. Tell me who it is. We’ll make them love you!” Jin Ling finally sat up, rubbing at his eyes with a scowl.

Jiang Cheng didn’t let go of his other hand.

“A-Ling. Lotus Pier has done a lot of impossible things, you must always ‘attempt the impossible’, but you can’t make someone love you. It doesn’t work that way.” He tried to explain.

Jin Ling was well-meaning, but he was young. He didn’t understand yet.

His nephew thought for a long time as Jiang Cheng held onto his hand. He could still see him as a baby. His first steps turning into running across the piers, how Jiang Cheng had spilled ink all over the letter he’d been writing when Jin Ling oh so causally sprouted his first word. The little boy who would go with him to their ancestral shrine and bring the most beautiful lotus flowers for his mother.

“I’m proud of you.” Jiang Cheng said in his rasp of a voice to gain Jin Ling’s attention.

He didn’t think he’d ever said it out loud to him before.

“I’m proud of who you’ve become. Your mother would be proud too. You are so much like her…” He trailed off, the thought of his sister too painful to continue.

“Don’t do that.” Jin Ling spat, “don’t be nice to me. Don’t say that. Don’t…don’t give up.”

Jiang Cheng couldn’t help the laugh he let out. It was more of an empty puff of air, a splatter of blood expelling from his mouth instead, but still a laugh.

A knock sounded at the door and Lan Wangji bowed as he entered (which meant Wei Wuxian wasn’t far behind).

“Excuse the interruption. It is time for our session.”

Over the last few days, Lan Wangji had been playing healing music on his zither for him. Quite frankly Jiang Cheng thought it was bullshit, but it relaxed the expression on Wei Wuxian’s face a little so he conceded anyways.

“Go find Wei Wuxian. Make sure he isn’t doing anything stupid.” Jiang Cheng choked out in Jin Ling’s direction.

“Jiu-jiu-“

“Go.”

With another glance backward Jin Ling exited. The second he heard the door close Jiang Cheng let out a gut-wrenching cough, catching on the end of it as blood and petals expelled themselves from his throat. After a moment he felt hands on his shoulders, turning him over so he didn’t choke. He wanted to shrug Lan Wangji’s hands off. He was well aware he was only doing this for his husband. But he lacked the strength to do so. As the last of the blood dribbled down his chin onto the sheets those hands handed him the cup of water on his bedside table. He swallowed what he could, washing the taste of blood out of his mouth. It seemed the water was the only thing he could keep down now.

Collapsing back into his lying position he closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

“Why can’t you just make them leave.” He implored in Lan Wangji’s direction as he began setting up his zither.

“I can’t. Won't.” He responded in that dreadfully monotone voice of his.

“You think sitting here and watching me die is good for them? All you’re doing is delaying the inevitable. Just fucking let me go.” His voice sounded rough, raw from the amount of throwing up he’d been doing.

“I dislike you.” Lan Wangji said calmly.

“I know.” Jiang Cheng tried to scoff.

“Not because of what you’ve done to Wei Wuxian, although that is part of it” Lan Wangji continued, “you refuse to accept help. That anyone cares about you. Do you think yourself so great that help is beneath you?”

Jiang Cheng opened his mouth to argue, but Lan Wangji wasn’t finished.

“Despite everything you’ve done you are important to both your brother and mine.” He ended the sentence with a note of disdain.

Both your brother and mine. Lan Xichen. Jiang Cheng turned his head in the opposite direction on the pillow, closing his eyes at the pain that coursed through him that had nothing to do with the roots in his lungs. When he had collected himself and turned back over Lan Wangji was eyeing him with a calculated look.

“I was correct” He notes.

“About what?” Jiang Cheng forces venom into his voice although it exhausts him.

“You love my brother.”

Jiang Cheng was shocked into silence. He didn’t know what to say. How to deny. He was so tired. Lan Wangji seemed to take his silence as the confirmation that it was and leveled him with a severely judgmental look.

“How long?” He asked.

“Doesn’t matter. He doesn’t feel the same about me, and I refuse to guilt him about my death. You know he’d blame himself” he sighed with a wheeze.

Lan Wangji continued looking at him with that unreadable expression. Just for a moment, he wished he was his brother so he could decipher what it meant. After a long uncomfortable moment, he just turned to his zither and began to play.

Wei Wuxian and Jin Ling visited almost constantly the next two days, seeming to get along solely in solidarity. Lan Wangji would visit once a day to play the zither, although he had resumed not speaking to him. That was fine. Jiang Cheng preferred it that way. It was in a rare moment of peaceful solitude that it happened.

There was a knock at the door. He couldn’t manage to shout permission of entry loud enough anymore, so he just waited for Wei Wuxian or Jin Ling to come around the corner.

It wasn’t.

Standing before him at the entrance of his quarters was a man with long, silky black hair. Tall and regal, willowy almost but packed with hard muscle from years of combat. Dressed white as the snow in the mountains, as pristine and pure as the water lilies in the pond outside. A look of pure unadulterated horror on his face as he took in Jiang Cheng’s condition. His sunken in cheeks, the blood on his robes, the dullness in his eyes. He took a step forward then stopped, as though getting too close would make it real. Jiang Cheng wanted to curse Lan Wangji, he wanted to curse him to the afterlife and back again because it could be no one else's doing. Because he was there. Standing at his door.

Lan Xichen.

Chapter Text

Jiang Cheng couldn’t speak even if he wanted to. The surprise of seeing his love at the door caused him to erupt in a fit of coughing and desperate gasping for air, the sounds coming out of him sounding pitiful and almost inhuman. However it seemed to snap Lan Xichen out of whatever frozen trance he was in, Jiang Cheng felt gentle hands on his shoulders, on his face, the tickle of long black hair on his nose as Lan Xichen leaned over him.

“A-Cheng…A-Cheng…” Lan Xichen kept repeating as Jiang Cheng spit out a wad of winter jasmine blossoms.

A-Cheng. That was new.

“Your brother told you.” He guessed when he finally got his voice back, it barely came out and hurt when it did but it was audible.

Lan Xichen flinched at his tone, his voice sounding shaky and weak even to him. He tilted his head in affirmation.

“Remind me to break his legs.” Jiang Cheng growled as best as he could.

He couldn’t really. They both knew that. Not in his state. But Lan Xichen just brushed his hair out of his face so it didn’t get caught in the dried blood any more than it already had, his hands always so gentle.

“You didn’t want me to know” That wasn’t a guess and Lan Xichen’s voice was terrifyingly even as he spoke.

Jiang Cheng nodded.

“No point.”

“It's me. Isn’t it.” Another statement from Lan Xichen.

There was a long silence, only the sounds coming from outside his window echoing through the room. There was no point anymore, was there? No use in hiding it. Lan Xichen was far from a stupid man.

He nodded again.

“You were just going to die, weren’t you? Without telling me? Without telling anyone?” He wished Lan Xichen would stop asking questions he already knew the answer to.

“I told Wei Wuxian” he argued weakly, just to prove him wrong.

Lan Xichen’s face wasn’t impressed. He busied himself with grabbing the cleanest rag out of the bunch and the bucket with the least blood in it and softly started washing the bloodstains off Jiang Cheng’s face.

“I didn’t want you to feel guilty. This isn’t your fault.” Jiang Cheng added, the silence pressing on him in a weight that was greater than the flowers in his chest.

“Isn’t it?” Lan Xichen challenged with that same even tone. He didn’t like that tone. He couldn’t tell how he was feeling, he’d never heard it from him before.

“No. You can’t help how you feel. Especially not when it comes to me.” Jiang Cheng sighed, too exhausted to argue.

“I believe I’m more at fault than you believe me to be.” Lan Xichen was frowning, not looking Jiang Cheng in the eye, instead focused solely on washing his face. He shook his head, making his hand slip.

“No. You don’t get to blame yourself for this. It's hardly your fault someone like you doesn't love someone like me.” Jiang Cheng tried to turn away but Lan Xichen held him firmly in place.

The hand washing his face froze.

“Someone like you?” He echoed.

“Yes. Angry. Brash. Violent. Impulsive-” Jiang Cheng was going to continue but before he could a pair of lips were pressed to his, as gently as if he were porcelain.

When Lan Xichen pulled back Jiang Cheng could do nothing but gape. The kiss couldn't have been pleasant for him, his breath smelled overwhelmingly of winter jasmine and must have tasted like earth and blood. But Lan Xichen just took hold of his hand and ran his thumbs across the back.

Jiang Cheng’s chest stung, stubborn tears coming unbidden to his eyes as he tried to yank his hand away. Lan Xichen seemed surprised, he could have kept him there with how weak he was but he let him go. Jiang Cheng pulled his hand in close, cradling it to his chest.

“Don’t. Don’t do this. Please.” His voice was soft, pleading. He hated sounding like this.

He wanted Lan Xichen to leave. The hurt in his heart was worse than the flowers rubbing his throat raw. It was worse than knowing he was dying. It was worse than facing his nephew, saying goodbye to him. Worse than having to give his Mother’s spiritual weapon to Wei Wuxian.

“I…I’m afraid I don’t understand.” Lan Xichen looked hurt, but above all confused. His brows furrowed in a way that would be ridiculously adorable in any other situation.

“Don’t pretend to love me because I’m dying. Please, let me have a little dignity left.” He closed his eyes, unable to admit it to his face.

His dignity had been stripped away as soon as Wei Wuxian had to start helping him dress or go to the latrine. It had been eviscerated the moment his council had to crowd around his bed for an important sect meeting. It vanished the second Jin Ling had to hold his hair back as tears of pain mixed with blood and flowers.

“A-Cheng…” Lan Xichen’s voice held something in it Jiang Cheng didn’t know how to read.

“Don’t…please…”

He couldn't stand the familiarity. The pity. The last thing in the world he wanted was the man he loved to see him die, to watch him wither away into a skeleton surrounded by blooms of winter jasmine and blood.

He tried to roll onto his side so he didn’t have to face Lan Xichen, exerting what little energy he had left, but the older man grasped his shoulders and held him down on the bed with a strength that surprised Jiang Cheng. He sat down next to him, unmindful of the blood staining his white robes, leaning over him so they were almost nose to nose with a hauntingly intense look in his eyes.

“Jiang Wanyin, I’ve broken many rules of my sect but I do not lie. I love you. I love your passion, your fire, the way you try so hard to act like you don't care about people but I see it. You do. About Jin Ling, even Wei Wuxian. Even me. You loved a broken man and you loved me as I was. I told you I was more at fault for this than you thought, its because I love you. I have for a while now.”

Lan Xichen grasped his face, hands-on his gaunt cheekbones so he couldn’t look away. Jiang Cheng didn’t want to look at that expression in his eyes, that intensity.

“Lans only love once.” He repeated what he’d been told all that time ago.

“I was a fool. An utter fool. I loved Jin Guangyao, truly. But you snuck up on me, Wanyin. You crept up and before I knew it I’d found love again.” A tear dripped from Lan Xichen’s nose onto Jiang Cheng’s face that the former gently brushed off with a thumb.

“You didn’t say anything.” Jiang Cheng rebutted weakly.

If he truly loved him he should have said something. He knew how he felt. Lan Xichen shook his head, opening his mouth and seeming to search for an explanation.

“Lans are only supposed to love once. I felt like I was betraying Jin Guangyao, despite everything he’d done, by loving you. It was unfair to you, I know. I’m more selfish than I seem. Then you started seeing the matchmaker and I thought you’d moved on, you grew so distant and…” he trailed off.

Jiang Cheng was at a loss for words. That seed of doubt and self-hatred had been planted so deep, rooted even deeper than the flowers in his lungs, ‘Lans only love one’ continued echoing in his head.

“What can I do to make you believe me? I’d do anything to remedy the mistakes I’ve made, xīngān.” He pleaded, voice shaking so slightly that if Jiang Cheng hadn’t been enraptured by his every word he would have missed it.

If he had any blood left to rush to his cheeks and ears he would have at the term of endearment.

“There's a pond behind the Hanshi…” Lan Xichen started, staring at Jiang Cheng’s purple under-robe and the faint lotus patterns that were now sullied with his blood and sweat, “I’ve started to grow lotuses. They continue to die…but last year there was one that bloomed. Just a single one. A fighter. Just like you.”

Jiang Cheng felt like his words had been robbed from him from the moment Lan Xichen had stepped into the room, and now more so than ever.

“You love me.” He whispered finally, catching the hand that Lan Xichen had removed from his cheek in his own, his voice disbelieving.

“Ardently” Lan Xichen expressed, “now my only question is, would you do me the honor of loving me back?”

He looked scared as if there was a single chance Jiang Cheng was going to say no.

“Shǎ guā…” was all he could manage before the tears that he was keeping at bay broke through the floodgates and spilled onto his cheeks.

“A-Cheng…” Lan Xichen pressed their noses together, his robes most definitely ruined by now.

Jiang Cheng grabbed the front of his robes, pulling him closer so their noses slipped and Lan Xichen’s lips were on his once more. This time Jiang Cheng wasn’t too shocked to reciprocate, the two moving in tandem as Lan Xichen ignored the taste of blood in his mouth and Jiang Cheng pretended like he didn’t notice the wet droplets falling from Lan Xichen’s eyes onto his skin.

“Don’t die for me, A-Cheng…I can’t lose you.” Lan Xichen was clutching at Jiang Cheng in a very strange sort of horizontal hug as he pressed himself as close as he could without hurting him.

There was no doubt he could feel every bone on Jiang Cheng, his ribs pronounced ever since he stopped being able to ingest food. Lan Xichen didn’t seem to care beyond the heartbroken glance he'd given them. He just pulled Jiang Cheng into his arms more comfortably and basked in the love in the air.

Outside the room, a certain white-robed cultivator was trying to stop his husband from entering the room.

“Lan Zhan, let me go! I need to check on Jiang Cheng!” His husband huffed, finally prying his arm away from where it was blocking the door and entering.

The two holding each other on the bed with tear tracks on their faces didn’t seem to notice his entrance, either that or they were too engrossed in each other to care.

“Oh…” Wei Wuxian whispered under his breath.

Lan Wangji who had been right behind him felt his shoulders slump in relief as he saw the result of his letter. He may not be Jiang Cheng’s biggest fan, but he wasn’t about to see his brother lose someone else he loved. Not when he’d been so miserable without Jiang Cheng these past few months.

The pair slowly backed out of the room, closing the door as quietly as they could behind them as they left the couple to their own devices.

Things got better after that.

Jiang Cheng found that each day it was a little easier to breathe, the blood coming less often and the roots shrinking back down where they came from.

Lan Xichen held him as he threw up what flowers were left, stroking his hair and murmuring words of love and encouragement. Proving to Jiang Cheng each day that he loved him, that he was worthy of love. He rarely strayed from his side except for when his brother forced him to sleep, and even then he chose to curl up on the other side of Jiang Cheng’s bed and rest there.

There was still worry. Jiang Cheng couldn’t keep any food down until the roots had shrunken enough and the healer was worried he’d starve to death before he could be healed. To say Lan Xichen took the news well would be a blatant lie. He tried to make every single food he could to see if any would sit well with Jiang Cheng. He’d even made his A-Jie’s lotus rib soup. It was awful and he probably wouldn't be able to eat it even if he had no roots in his throat, but it was the thought that counted.

Once the roots had descended and disappeared Lan Xichen had insisted on taking Jiang Cheng back to the Cloud Recesses to regain his strength. There was barely a moment he wasn’t doted on, his partner only leaving for Sect Leader responsibilities and even then he did as much paperwork in the Hanshi as he could.

There were rules against gossip in the Cloud Recesses so no one said anything about it. They didn’t say anything when Jiang Cheng was up and walking again yet didn’t return to Lotus Pier right away. They didn’t say anything about the pair planting something near the pond, heads bent together as their Sect Leader listened intently.

And when Lan Xichen ordered every single winter jasmine plant unrooted and disposed of in the sect…well, no one said anything about that either.

Chapter Text

Hello everyone and thank you for the kind words and encouragement! It has been beyond what I could have asked for and makes me want to write even more! I've just uploaded the first chapter of "Lotus Bloom" which is Lan Xichen's POV of this story. You can find it on my page or under the series tab at the top. I hope I can see you all in the comments there soon!

I'm hoping you all stay safe and healthy!